There were a few moments of silence, presumably so the Narrator could read and process the scribbled note that had been left for him. There were a few more moments of silence after that, presumably so the Narrator could feel positively affronted in peace and quiet. And then there were a few more moments of silence after that, to the point that the entire atmosphere of the place became awkward and vaguely uncomfortable.

“Weeelll,” drawled the Narrator. “These ‘priorities’ that you talk about. What are they? Do they fit within some kind of cohesive narrative? Some kind of” – his voice changed a little, filled with some strange and indescribable emotion – “story?”

The Repairman took the time to look outside the window. There was nothing out there, yet there were still a few cracks. Odd.

As the silence dragged on, the Repairman began unconsciously looking up, awaiting the “automated” voice. He swallowed. Had he offended him?

He sighed in relief as the voice continued. And then he cringed, looking at the crack next to him.

As he didn’t want to make his job here harder, he still refused to talk to the Narrator directly. Instead, he dug into his toolbox and pulled out several signs. He began sifting through them, and the signs he set aside coincidentally said the following (with similarly sloppy writing):

“I fix the Fourth Wall.”

“I don’t know, never thought about it that way.”

“I just try to focus on my job.”

“I don’t know if it pieces together.”

The inkblot perked up.

“Wait.”

“I can be the star of a story?”

“Is that what you’re saying?”

Finally, the Repairman got to a yellow sign that said “Man at work” and placed it near the window.

“To your right you’ll spot one of our thousands of windows… how many windows, you ask? Well, I mean, literally no one has bothered to count them all, so let’s just give it a rough estimate of, say, 8,888…”

The Narrator paused, watching his inkblot guest pull what appeared to be a fully-functioning ladder from a toolbox. He cleared his throat.

“In a shocking display of rudeness, our guest decided to interrupt the poor Narrator during the – need I mention? – complementary tour… Seriously, what are you doing? If you keep this up you’ll miss my lecture on narrative tropes in video gaming, and that’s the best part.”

Oh. A narrator. That explained a lot.

The Repairman paused for thought. He did wonder how a Narrator alone caused cracks all throughout this area, but he needed to get this done first.

After a momeent, he slowly lowered the ladder back into the toolbox, put the toolbox behind his back, and pulled out a beaten-up ballpoint pen and a crumpled-up sheet of paper. After some furious scribbling, he had a note (written in chicken-scratch, and with several smears, but a note nonetheless). He placed it on the nearest desk face-up, so any passerby could easily see it and read:

To Whom It May Concern:

I appreciate the (automated?) tour. I don’t often get tours when I visit places.

But it’s not why I’m here.

I am the Fourth Wall Repairman, and I’ve noticed a lot of [[several words crossed off to the point of illegibility]] issues with this area. I am curious as to how this is, as there is no one here, and that made me wonder more about this office. But, again, I have my priorities. I will be more than happy to be shown around, but please understand if I make a detour every so often.

Thank you.

P.S. I’m sorry for not talking to you directly. I hope you understand.

@tsp-narrator

The Narrator watched as the thing – some kind of bizarre inkblot? – inputted the number 1 into the nearest computer keyboard. Brilliant, he thought. It was his time to shine.

He cleared his throat and put on a voice effused with bravado. “Well, well, well!” he said, in the style of an old show announcer. “Look who we have here! Why don’t I give you, our distinguished guest, a tour of the place. These are our old, broken-down computers… these are our badly-lit beige walls… this is a perfectly harmless copy machine… and if you turn your head a little this way, you can see part of our state-of-the-art malfunctioning electrical system!” (One of the lights flickered dimly.)

The Repairman took a passing glance at each part of the office described, keeping a safe distance from the copier. He felt a slight twinge as he did so, but he was sure that was just his putting off his job for a moment.

Speaking of which, there seemed to be a crack outside the window opposite the faulty lighting. How could that be? The Repairman could clearly see that there was nothing there. Clearly, the tour was automated, so no one would notice if he pulled a ladder from his toolbox and set it up so he could climb down…

The Repairman opened the door carefully, trying to get in unnoticed. He needn’t have worried; there was no one to hide from. The inkblot blinked. He had never seen an environment quite as deserted as this. How could the Fourth Wall have been broken? He exited the room he had been in, noting that every door was numbered. No one was to be seen in any of the windows, or in office, yet there seemed to be cracks pretty much everywhere. Strange.

tsp-narrator-deactivated2017050:

A voice issued overhead, though the rooms were still empty. “Hello. You have entered a generic office environment. For further information on your surroundings, press 1. For tips and pointers on video game narration, press 2. For a destructive, yet totally unprovoked fire, press 3.”

The Repairman jumped back slightly as the voice said hello, looking up for the source of the sound.

He guessed it was an average PA system (albeit one with strangely hidden speakers), so he quickly regained his composure and continued forward.

After hearing the possible input options (and wincing slightly at option 2), he paused. What was he supposed to press? There were phones and computers all around, and there was even a copy machine. There were no clues as to which to press.

However, the Repairman was curious about the place he was in, so he climbed onto the nearest chair and pressed the “1” key at that computer. Perhaps that would give him an explanation.